A Holly Jolly Gauntlet
by Auldearn
Summary: Adventure doesn't stop for the Holidays - especially when you have Martin Riggs as a partner.
1. Chapter 1

I am working on my other stories but this came to me and I had to get it out first. That's just the way the muses work. And besides it's for the holiday season. Reviews are most welcome and thanks for reading.

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><p>"Watch out, Riggs! You're gonna-"<p>

The rest of Roger's sentence was cut off as he found himself slammed into the passenger side car door, Riggs' pickup swerving hard to the left. Straightening back up, he quickly put on his seatbelt - _what had he been thinking anyway not having it on? _- and proceeded to start yelling at his partner again. "Riggs! You have got to be more careful! With all this rain pouring down, you are gonna hydroplane if you keep driving this way!" Giving up, Roger closed his eyes tightly as his partner threaded the large truck through an impossibly small space between two other vehicles and then gunned the engine, screeching on two wheels, turning just in time to make their exit off the interstate.

"Boy, that was fun, huh, Rog?" Giggling like a twelve year old, Martin didn't even notice the death glares emanating from Roger.

"Fun?" Roger shouted back. "There isn't anything about this evening that I would call fun!" He sighed heavily. "You've come up with a lot of hare-brained crazy ideas, but this one is the worse - the absolute worse." Staring glumly out the truck window, Roger gave a defeated shake of his head. "We're gonna die tonight, Riggs. You know that, right?"

"Negative thinking gets you nowhere, Rog."

"I'm serious, Martin. This is a suicide mission."

"We'll be just fine," Riggs sighed as he gave a nonchalant wave. "I have plenty of training on how to handle hostile situations. Don't worry. "

The only response from Roger was a disgusted snort. "I don't care what the Special Forces or CIA may have taught you. This is going to be worse than any Black Ops you ran."

Riggs just rolled his eyes. After all, he was used to his partner worrying about every situation they encountered but didn't he always get them out? Didn't he always take care of it? Okay, maybe there was a _LITTLE_ collateral damage some of the time, but hell, sometimes that was just unavoidable. He slowed down the truck as he sighted their destination ahead. Eyes narrowing, Martin peered through the front windshield, looking over everything as best as he could between the steady motion of the windshield wipers.

Pulled out of his own private thoughts, Roger looked over at his partner for a moment and then followed his gaze out the front window. "So … what's our next move?"

Riggs was silent for a long moment as he accessed the situation then gave a decisive nod of his head. "First thing we do," he said as he whipped a forefinger around in a circular motion, "is go around the perimeter - run a little recon."

"Yeah, yeah, sounds good," agreed Roger. "Let us know exactly what we're looking at here." He was surprised that Martin wasn't just going in half-cocked as he usually did; but then maybe even Riggs wasn't that fool-hardy.

Pressing on the gas slowly, Riggs inched forward, watchful eyes scanning outside the side window while Roger took the right. Focused on the task at hand, neither of them spoke; the only sound was the rain hitting against the truck roof as they continued onward. Suddenly Roger shouted out, "Over there, Riggs!"

"What?" Riggs' head whipped around quickly, "Where? Where?"

"Right there! At three o'clock!" Roger jabbed his finger excitedly in the direction he wanted his partner to go. "Now! You've got to hurry!"

"Don't worry … I'm on it." Yanking on the steering wheel, Martin jammed the pedal to the floor. The big engine roared to life as he jumped the curb, tore across the asphalt, nearly knocked over a gang of loitering teenagers, jumped yet another curb and cut off a nearby vehicle, before finally skidding to a stop. The startled driver of the other vehicle laid on the horn then jumped out of the car, screaming at the top of his lungs as his arms waved about like an irate baboon at the zoo.

Martin rolled down his window as the man approached them but suddenly the other driver hesitated, confused by the eager grin that Riggs greeted him with. His bravado quickly fading, he mumbled something then nearly tripping over his own feet backed off, got into his car and peeled away.

"Hmm… I'm impressed, Riggs," murmured Roger dryly. "You've gotten so crazy you can drive them away by just a look now."

"Well, you ARE always saying I should try and stop pulling my gun so much." Rolling the window back up, Riggs focused his gaze on Roger. "OK, let's go," he said, his smile wide.

Although his voice was as calm as a spring day, Martin's eyes still held a maniacal glint that caused Roger to sigh deeply. Despite the fact that this was the last place on Earth he wanted to be right now, and he had tried his best to get Riggs to give up on this crazy notion, Roger couldn't bring himself to abandon his partner - especially considering that since working together, the man had saved Roger's life on more than one occasion - not to mention his own family's as well on that Christmas when they had first met… No, he had to stick by his side. It was the right thing to do. After all, it was the first time since he'd gotten to know Martin, that the man had shown any interest at all in the holiday season. Normally around this time of year, Riggs was so far down in his depression that it took a concerted effort from the entire Murtaugh clan to keep him from having a breakdown. The fact that he had suggested they come here had to be a good sign, right? At least that's what Trish had said, but then she wasn't the one at the mall with Detective Sergeant Martin Riggs on Christmas Eve either.

"OK, let's get this over with," muttered Roger as he exited the truck and drudged in the rain towards the mall entrance like a prisoner taking that final long walk to the chair. Frowning, he took in the hordes of people ahead of them and sighed again. Surely this would not end well. Things rarely did when Martin was involved.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy...

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><p>Inching forward, Roger was reminded of an old movie he watched years ago that showed groups of lemmings following one another blindly off a cliff and he was beginning to have the same unnerved feeling that surely they must have felt before tumbling into the sea. Pressing onward, they filed past a skinny disinterested Santa, his matted beard sitting askew, ringing a bell for contributions; then on past a local street preacher who had taken a nearby spot to give his sermon as a few followers held up signs about the real reason for the season.<p>

Once they finally were inside the doors, Riggs quickly broke free from the crowd, looking for a place to get out of the way of the ever increasing throng of people. In his futile attempt to find a spot where he wasn't having his personal space violated, Riggs finally ended up having to take refuge in a nearby Christmas display. Pushing aside the gigantic styrofoam Christmas stockings and ornaments, he stood ankle deep in the fake snow, eyes squinted against the overly bright fluorescent lights and waited for his partner to join him. Damn he hated crowds. Riggs couldn't remember the last time he had seen so many people all together at one place … maybe the last time he and Vicky had gone to a Lakers game. But that crowd hadn't carried the air of desperation that was evident on these people's faces. "Wow … a little crowded, isn't it?" Martin muttered as Roger came over to stand next to him.

Taking in the slightly dazed look that had come to Martin's face, Roger couldn't help but chuckle. "I tried to warn ya… " he said with a sigh. "I guess it's been awhile since you've done this, eh?"

Riggs shook his head. "I've NEVER done this."

"Never?" Roger stared at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Martin shrugged. "I always got my presents early." His brow wrinkled up into a frown, arms folded across his chest. "And you don't have to act so surprised that I didn't always have to run out at the last second for a gift. I am capable of being responsible, ya know …" Riggs paused briefly. "Well … at least occasionally anyway."

"Of course," Roger said hurriedly. "Sorry … I didn't mean to imply... I just … uhm, well … anyway," He turned to the crowd, hands splayed out in front of them as he quickly changed the subject. "Okay then, this is it. Basically a million cranky men desperate for that last minute gift." He gave Riggs a nudge. "And we'll never find anything by standing in this display so we better get a move on."

"Alright, alright…" sighed Riggs, one hand patting his jacket - already on edge and very much in need of the nicotine that would soothe his nerves. He retrieved the pack and pulled out a cigarette only to have Roger quickly snatch it from his fingers before he could light it.

"What are you doing, Riggs? You can't smoke in here!"

"What's gonna happen? Is Mall security gonna arrest me?" Riggs gave a snort. "Puleeze .. those jokers don't even carry guns."

"I don't care. No smoking. And -" he added, quickly cutting off Martin's protest, "- I don't want to hear about it. You are the one that insisted on coming here."

"Hey, I was trying to save your butt! It's Christmas Eve, Rog, and you don't even have a present for Trish!"

"Like I told you, Riggs, we had already discussed it. Trish knows how hard we've been working and she is fine with getting her present after the holidays."

Riggs rolled his eyes in utter disbelief. "And you actually thought she really meant it?" He shook his head. "Being married for as long as you've been, I would have thought you knew at least a little bit about women, but you are utterly clueless."

"W-what are you talking about?" Suddenly Roger didn't look so sure of himself anymore. "You really think she'll be upset?"

Martin just gave another shake of his head. Shoving his smokes back into his pocket, Riggs motioned for Roger to follow him. "Trish puts up with a lot and we're gonna make sure she has a present under the tree." His face set in a determined scowl, Martin gave Roger a terse nod."Let's go."

Stepping out of the display, the two men were swallowed up by the crowd of people. Unable to fight the movement, they went along with the current, circulating around massive displays, most of them now picked clean of their merchandise as if a horde of locusts had descended upon them. "Oh, this is not looking good … not good at all…" Roger muttered under his breath as they came across the empty carcass of yet another gift display. Suddenly Roger stopped, coming to a halt so abruptly that Martin nearly crashed into him.

"What? What is it? Something wrong?" Martin's eyes scanned the area but he didn't see anything to cause alarm.

"That sign …" Roger pointed to a nearby counter excitedly. "I recognize that … they carry a lipstick that Trish loves. It could be a good start. Come on."

"You go ahead and check it out while I look around," suggested Riggs. "We'll cover more ground that way."

Roger frowned, quickly trying to calculate just how much time he could give Riggs alone in this mess before he'd probably get into trouble. "Well… I guess so… Meet you back here in ten."

"10-4," grinned the younger man as Roger took off for the makeup counter. As soon as his partner's attention was diverted, Martin reached back into his jacket and withdrew his cigarette pack once again. He, of course, had every intention of looking for Trish's gift, but there was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to sneak a quick smoke without having to listen to one of Roger's never ending lectures. Thumping the pack against one hand, he released a cigarette from captivity and was about to light it when an unearthly howl sounded out nearby. He turned quickly, his body instinctively going into a defense position, only to see that the noise was coming from a nearby man, his expression distraught.

"Nooo…" the man wailed again, "that couldn't have been the last one…. Maybe there's still one somewhere in the back?" He stared at the salesperson with hopeful eyes but she only crossed her arms with a shake of her head.

"Sorry, but, like I've said, I don't have anymore." The salesperson suddenly shrugged a shoulder. "You may want to check out at the other entrance. We did have a display set up th-" Before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, the man dashed off in desperation, almost crashing into Riggs in the process.

"Shit!" Martin jumped back just in time to avoid getting knocked over but then found himself stumbling forward as he was suddenly pushed from the other direction, a voice shouting out, "Hey! Watch where you're going, bub!"

Anger replacing his earlier amusement, Riggs turned around with a growl and … saw no one there to confront. _What the hell …_ _Great, just great, now he was hearing voices? Just wait until Doctor Woods gets wind of this… _But then suddenly the same obnoxious voice barked out yet again. "Hey Bozo, I'm right here!"

Following its direction, Riggs' gaze fell downward towards the floor. Standing next to him was a man, about three feet high. He was dressed in an elf costume - a hideous sparkling thing with sequins and jingle bells hanging off of it everywhere, along with a pair of red and white striped tights, green pointy shoes and a cone-shaped green felt hat covered in candy canes. His features contorted into a most unpleasant sneer, he glared pointedly at Riggs as he puffed furiously on a cigarette.

His initial anger dissipated by the utterly ridiculous sight before him, Riggs couldn't help but laugh. "Bozo? You're calling me Bozo?" He hooted loudly. "Have ya looked in the mirror lately? Cuz I'm not the one going around with bells on my shoes." Still chuckling, he popped the cigarette he had been holding into his mouth. "Hey, Twinkle Toes, got a light?"

Martin's laughter only proved to infuriate the small man further. Face reddening in anger, he growled back, "You're about to find one of these shoes up your ass!"

His amused mood gone in a flash, Riggs' eyes narrowed dangerously. He never took kindly to threats - even if they were coming from someone who could have been an extra from Willie Wonka and The Chocolate Factory. Before he had a chance to say anything else however, the other man suddenly reared back, kicking Riggs square on his shin bone with as much force as he could muster. "You little shit!" Riggs shouted out in surprise. As startled as he was, he still was quick enough to reach over, grabbing the man by his oversized ruffled collar. "I'm gonna -" The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a sudden booming voice announcing over the PA system that a last minute shipment of George Foreman Grills and Coach handbags had just arrived and would be reduced in price for the next thirty minutes. On cue, the stampeding crowd turned direction, sweeping past, jostling the two men, the little guy squirming like a worm on a hook as Riggs tried to hold on. "Damn it," he muttered, his grip loosening as a man whose bulk was roughly equivalent to the land mass of Rhode Island barreled between the two of them. The resulting impact was enough for the elf to slip from Martin's grasp and he quickly disappeared.

Muttering under his breath, Martin started to head off in the same direction when he was suddenly held back by a hand clamping down firmly on one of his shoulders. His own hands clenching into tight fists, he turned around, raising his free arm up to strike - only to find himself face to face with Roger. "Whoa, hey, take it easy!" Roger's hands came up in a gesture of surrender as he took in Martin's angry expression. "What's with you?"

"What's with me?" Riggs let his hands relax but his face was still etched with fury. "I've just been assaulted by an elf, that's what!"

"An elf?" Roger's eyebrows arched high in disbelief. _Obviously he had miscalculated. Ten minutes alone had been far too much time… _"An … elf… just assaulted you?"

"Yes! He kicked me! And don't look at me like that, Rog."

"Martin," sighed Roger, his infinite patience once again being tested by his wayward partner, "you just told me you were attacked by an elf. How _should_ I look at you?"

Riggs paused. "Fair enough." His eyes narrowed. "But I'm still gonna go find that little bast-"

"Oh no you're not." Leaning over, Roger grabbed Riggs by the arm. "You're coming with me. They didn't have the lipstick and I want to check out that sale they just announced."

"You want to get Trish a George Foreman Grill?"

"No, Riggs. The handbags - the Coach handbags." His hand coming up, Roger snatched the unlit cigarette that Martin had managed to keep tucked in the corner of his mouth throughout his entire altercation. "And WHAT did I say about no smoking in here?"

"Hey! The elf was smoking!"

"I don't want to hear anything more about the elf," Roger grumbled irritably. "Forget the elf." Keeping a firm grip on Martin, he dragged the younger man through the crowd. His normally calm demeanor was beginning to show cracks on the surface as he pushed and shoved with the best of them, working his way to the handbag section. They arrived just in time to watch two men both grab the last purse from the display at the same time. Roger sighed and turned away as they began a ferocious game of tug of war, one hanging onto the strap and the other to the rest of the purse. _So much for that gift idea …_

Martin suddenly broke out into an enthusiastic grin, one hand patting Roger on the back. "Hey, Rog, I've got a plan."

"Yeah?" Roger glanced over at him suspiciously.

"Yeah." Riggs pointed over to the two men still tussling like mad animals fighting over the last food scrap. "How about I arrest those two for disturbing the peace and then you swoop in and grab the purse."

God help him, Roger actually considered it for a second, but then shook his head, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not helping here."

"Well I thought it was a good plan."

"Of course you would, Riggs." Spinning on his heel, Roger looked around, mind working frantically. Something … something … there had to be something that Trish would like … "Okay," he said with a snap of his fingers. "Come on."

"Now where?"

Roger pointed to a counter a few aisles over. "We'll try perfume. Women always like perfume, right?"

"Uhh.." Riggs shrugged, "… sure, I guess …"

"Great. Let's go."

They almost made it to the counter without trouble … almost. Just as they were nearing their destination, a woman appeared out of nowhere, a huge smile plastered on her immaculately and heavily made up face. "Hello! Happy Holidays! How about some perfume? I am sure your wife will love it!" Before either man had a chance to say a word, she raised the bottle and sprayed a cloud of the product all over Riggs.

Martin took a step back, coughing as the obnoxious scent filled his nostrils. "My eyes! You got me right in the eyes!" He found himself unable to stop coughing, he couldn't breathe and now he couldn't see. Dear god, it was worse than tear gas. Riggs' arms were waving around, trying desperately to get rid of the smell. What the hell was it? Roses? Jasmine? Whatever it was, it made him smell worse than the two-bit cheap whores he used to round up in his vice days. Bent over double from coughing, Riggs growled deeply, "Lady, as soon as I can see again, I'm shooting you!"

Her eyes opening wide, the saleswoman took a step back, her plastic smile now replaced by the very real look of fear, lacquered red nails clasping over her mouth. Roger quickly stepped in, smiling reassuringly at her, one hand patting the back of the still doubled over and coughing Riggs, the other hand squeezing on Riggs' shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "Ha, ha," he laughed, "my friend is such a kidder."

"I am not kidding!" Still half-blind, Riggs managed to straighten back up, one hand quickly reaching underneath his jacket, around his beltline for where his Beretta was tucked along his back. His mouth still stretched out into a smile, Roger grabbed Riggs' arm and steered him away from the horrified woman before he could pull out the gun. He managed to maneuver the irate detective up to the closest wall, keeping his body between Riggs and the other shoppers.

After another minute, Riggs was finally able to stay upright, although his eyes were bright red and he smelled worse than a cathouse. Head swiveling, he looked around. Although Riggs was no longer sputtering curses and threats, Roger kept his hand on him all the same. "Martin, you can't shoot her."

"It would have been justified," the other man muttered. "Damn it, my eyes are still burning!" Noticing a nearby water fountain, he went over and started washing his eyes out as best as he could. After another minute, he stood up and wiped his face dry on a jacket sleeve. "What is wrong with these people?"

"I tried to warn y-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know … this was my idea." Martin sighed deeply. "Well, let's go back and get something for Trish."

Roger stared over a shoulder to see the frightened saleslady sitting behind the counter, sobbing hysterically as another salesperson tried her best to console her. He quickly decided that it would probably be best to get out of here before someone started screaming about police brutality. The last thing Captain Murphy would want to hear about was another lawsuit. "Uhmm… y'know, Martin, I think we'll just forget about the perfume. Let's check out another store."


	3. Chapter 3

If Roger thought that the store they had just left was bad, he quickly learned how wrong he was -entering into the main area of the mall was like going directly into the belly of the beast. Despite his height and bulk, Roger found himself being knocked about like a ping-pong ball. This, along with the ever increasing grumbling from a highly agitated Riggs was making Roger a most unhappy camper. If he heard one more salesperson wish him "Happy Holidays!" with their forced merriment and frozen smiles, _HE_ was going to be the one exploding.

"Shit! Is that song on a constant reloop?!" Turning around, Roger saw Martin, both hands pressed to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the millionth piped in rendition of 'Jingle Bells' that they had heard so far that evening - this one done in a horrible hip-hop/country mash-up version. "It's seeping into every crevice of my brain. Seriously," Riggs growled, "this is just as bad as any torture I've had to endure."

"Well, Riggs, just like any torture, it ends eventually."

"It's gonna end alright and sooner than they were expecting because I'm gonna find where the sound system is located and then I'm gonna shoot it."

"Oh, no you're not. We're here to find a present for Trish and that's what we are going to do."

The younger man continued to grumble under his breath but Roger could tell by the look on his face that he was actually trying to calm down - at least for the moment. Afraid to say anything to jinx it, Roger just took a deep breath, his own expression weary as they moved further along, finding themselves back into the middle of another massive crowd. Despite the jittery, nervous look that everyone had, instead of moving along quickly, they crawled through the interior of the mall with a bovine sluggishness that made him want to climb the walls; so no small wonder that Riggs was getting jumpy.

They veered off into a little boutique with ridiculously priced clothes that Trish would never want, quickly fell back into the swarm again before hitting another larger store. Ignoring the overwhelming sense of desperation, they made their way around a group of people arguing with a frustrated salesperson as they tried to use coupons that were not only expired but belonging to another department. Both men visibly tensed at the sound of raised angry voices but luckily they were able to plow through without incident. Suddenly Roger could smell the clouds of perfume emanating from yet another saleswoman ahead of them and he quickly used his larger body to guide his partner off to one side. Riggs glanced over at him, eyes narrowing questioningly but Roger just pointed to a sign off in the distance, "Let's head over there."

Martin groaned. "Awww, come on! Another clothing store?"

"You got any other bright ideas?!" Roger barked back in response.

Riggs frowned slightly, lips pursed deep in thought when suddenly he snapped his fingers, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, I got it! We can get her cooking lessons!"

Roger's eyes opened wide, a horrified look filling them. "Ohhhh… bad, bad idea …"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah … I tried that one year." A sheepish expression suddenly came over the big man as one hand went up, rubbing the side of his head."I think I still have the knot from where she threw the cookbook that came with the class at me…"

"Uhmm … well, alrighty then …" Riggs glanced off to one side without further comment, trying not to look too embarrassed for his best friend.

Still trying to put the memories of THAT horrible Christmas out of his mind, Roger shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, thoughts returning back to the list of possible gifts he had been trying to compose in his head. Of course, almost immediately, his concentration was broken by Riggs' sudden loud exclamation of, "What the HELL!?"

Quickly looking over, Roger saw that his pain in the ass partner was now aiming his megawatt death glare at an elderly gentleman standing nearby. _Good Lord_, Roger thought to himself. _What could possibly be the problem now?_ The frail man looked to be about eighty-five and as harmless as a mouse in his mismatched plaid shirt, baseball cap and pants - the waistband of which was pulled up so high the belt could almost double as a bowtie.

"Riggs …"

"Don't Riggs me!" One of Martin's hands came up to rub against his side. "Grandpa here elbowed me so hard he nearly cracked a rib!"

"GRANDPA?!" the old man yelled back. "You're taking up the whole aisle, ya long haired freak!"

"Long haired freak?!" Riggs sputtered, unable to come up with anything else to say.

Despite his frustration, Roger couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth - at least something happened to brighten his mood - and he needed that; especially considering that the only thing he wanted was to be curled up with Trish in front of the fireplace, drinking a hot toddy and listening to their old Nat King Cole Christmas album. It didn't matter if it was warm enough to be wearing shorts and people were surfing the waves at the beach, it was Christmas, damn it, and that was what they did every Christmas Eve. Sighing, Roger reached over and laying a hand on Riggs' arm, pulled him back gently; his frown deepened as his partner shook his hand off, his focus still honed on the elderly man like a cobra about to strike.

"Look here, you old coot, if you don't behave, I'm gonna arrest you for assaulting a police officer!"

"Assaulting a police officer?!"

"That's right. I'm a cop."

"HAH!" the man sneered back in response as he shook a liver-spotted fist at the younger man. "Like I believe that, ya damn hippie!" Raising his other hand, he jabbed Riggs in the upper thigh as hard as he could with the end of his cane before moving on, muttering loudly about youngsters and the complete lack of respect they held these days for their elders.

"Shit!" Riggs bent over, now rubbing his leg. Of course the old geezer had poked him right where Vorstedt's knife had gone through because that was just the way things went for Riggs. Despite the time that had passed, he had plenty of days when it bothered him and being stabbed again by another pointy object certainly didn't help matters any. Growling under his breath, Riggs pivoted on one heel and limped off as fast as he could - the crowd of people parting like the Red Sea - everyone instinctively realizing it would be in their best interest to avoid the irate detective. Roger followed after his partner and by the time he reached him, Riggs was already leaning against a nearby wall, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Roger prudently decided not to say anything about smoking this time. Sucking in a lungful, Riggs looked over at Roger as he blew a column of smoke up into the air, then threw his hands upward in a gesture of surrender. "Okay," he muttered with downcast eyes, "you were right. This really was a stupid idea on my part."

Roger wanted to say, "I told you so," but considering that Riggs looked as pathetic as a kicked puppy, he managed to refrain from gloating. Instead he smiled broadly. "Oh, it's alright, Martin. It was nice of you to try."

"I guess." Pushing himself off from the wall with one shoulder, Riggs dropped the cigarette and ground the stub out with a booted toe, not bothering to pick it up afterwards. Roger decided not to say anything about littering either. He'd learned a long time ago when to pick his battles … made for a much smoother partnership. Noticing the younger man's glum face, he reached over and gave him a pat. "Look," Roger said in an effort to cheer him up, "come on over to the house tonight."

"Naahh…" Riggs shook his head emphatically. He knew that Christmas Eve was Roger and Trish's time together and he didn't want to intrude - something he often felt he did too much of as it was.

"Are you sure you won't come over?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Riggs smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll be over tomorrow for Christmas dinner." He gave a sudden shake of his head. "Can you believe that crazy old man called me a hippie?" he asked in disbelief.

Roger snorted. "Well, Riggs, your hair is the longest it's ever been since I've known you. A haircut wouldn't be out of order."

Martin fixed Roger with a glacier stare. "Crap, now you're sounding like Murphy. Why's everyone gotta bug me about my hair?" Not waiting for an answer, he growled, "Fine, let's just get out of here before I end up shooting someone."

With anyone else, a person would be safe in assuming that the statement was just a joke, but experience had taught Roger better. His face hardened into a deep scowl as they started walking again. "One of these days, Riggs, you are gonna have to learn not to handle every situation with violence."

Martin hesitated in mid-step and Roger was surprised to see that the man actually appeared hurt by his statement. "I don't handle every situation with violence," he said, his voice sounding as upset as his expression. "What about that perp I apprehended just last week?"

Roger stared at him, too incredulous to speak for a moment. Taking in a calming breath, he did his best to compose himself before replying, quietly enunciating each word with great emphasis, "Riggs.. you hit him in the head with a bowling ball."

"Well, I didn't shoot him now, did I?" Riggs looked quite pleased with himself over this fact but his partner didn't seem to share the same opinion. He, however, was oblivious to this fact as he started to giggle to himself. "Yep, that was quite a strike I threw, huh? I should probably join a bowling team. Maybe it would keep me out of trouble."

Knowing that nothing would every accomplish that feat, Roger just sighed as he muttered, "Ya know what part of your problem is?"

"You mean I only have one problem?"

Roger ignored Martin's query. He knew good and well that that was a question he wasn't going to touch with a ten foot pole. "Part of your problem, " he continued, "is that you actually think that's an accomplishment - nearly knocking the guy's brains out with a 15 lb bowling ball rather than shooting him or snapping his neck." Jogging over to one side, Roger began weaving through a group of shoppers, Riggs one step behind him. "You have to know," the older man continued, "that the Department and Woods still keep an eagle eye on you … especially…" his voice dropped low, "… especially after … everything."

The cocky grin on Riggs' face disappeared briefly but quickly returned, his jaw stuck out defiantly. "Yeah, I know she's still drooling at the thought of getting rid of me but I'm not going anywhere." The tone of his voice showed that he didn't think the department shrink was anyone he needed to concern himself with. Roger, of course, had enough worry to go around for the both of them.

"Hmm mm…" the older detective murmured noncommittally. After a moment's pause, he added, "You won't have a choice in the matter if you don't drop your number of shooting incidents."

"Well, that's why I used the BOWLING BALL!" Riggs' voice had grown loud with frustration, causing several people nearby to look over in their direction.

"Fine, fine!" Roger quickly decided to just drop the subject. After all, it was Christmas and the last thing he wanted to do was bring up something that would send Martin off the deep-end. Riggs had managed to make a good amount of progress since becoming friends with the Murtaughs and it had been difficult to watch him get knocked back down so far again after Rika's death and finding out the truth about Vicky. Riggs' vigilantism and the subsequent fallout had ended up nearly destroying everything of what little he had had left… Not that things had been a cakewalk for Roger either. Shooting an unarmed diplomat in the head - even if the bastard had just nearly killed your partner - was apparently frowned on by the LAPD . Who knew? Roger smiled faintly to himself at the memory. It had all been worth it though.

Riggs meanwhile had jumped ahead of his partner, his head swiveling from side to side as he tried to find the nearest exit. The unexpected detour that their talk had veered into had gotten him even more agitated and ready to get out of this hell-hole. Suddenly spotting a nearby exit, he began pushing through the crowd, making a beeline for it, Roger following behind him.

They hadn't been able to find a present for Trish but they had made it through the shopping gauntlet without injury to themselves and most importantly, without Riggs injuring anyone. All in all, Roger considered the evening a rousing success. Of course that was the last thought he had time for before the fire alarm went off and the gunshots started.


End file.
